


Love & Stuff - Alernative Universe Series Set to Music

by Calacious



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Bloodplay, Domestic Violence, Drabble Collection, Dubious Consent, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Inspired by Music, M/M, Non-Linear Narrative, POV Xander, Past Child Abuse, Semi Consensual Kink, Some ficlets, Songfic, allusions to BDSM, extremely au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-02
Updated: 2015-11-19
Packaged: 2018-04-18 15:43:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 7
Words: 7,564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4711388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Calacious/pseuds/Calacious
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of drabbles featuring Xander and Spike in a sexual relationship that starts out less than healthy, and develops into something bordering on healthy after Spike gains a soul, and Xander takes a walk on the wild/dark side.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Sex and Bruises and the Want for Something More

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own the characters of this work of fiction, and no profit, monetary or otherwise is being made through the writing of this. 
> 
> This is extremely AU - Xander is still in high school, though he and Spike are living in a mobile home (trailer) together. There are elements of BDSM and blood-play. There are also elements of abandonment and spiraling out of control, seeking sex in all the wrong places. Spike gains a soul, though that is only mentioned in passing, and things change. This starts out very angsty and unhappy, but it gets better. 
> 
> This is set outside of the events of the series, and makes only vague mention of anything related to the show. There is very little dialogue. 
> 
> Inspired by songs on the YouTube playlist I've created titled, Love and Stuff. As such, I wrote whatever the song inspired. This is imperfect, though I hope that maybe someone out there will enjoy it.

1\. Blue October,"Drilled a Wire Through My Cheek"

* * *

It's a dance. Each step important. Leading to potential -- inevitable --death if there's one misstep. And he's sick of it, feels like he's diffusing his own private bomb every fucking day. Because that's what Spike is. A bomb just waiting to go off at the slightest provocation.

"There's gotta be something better out there," Xander says, eyes flicking toward his lover, chained to the bed. It's their kind of kink.  
If his friends knew about this, they would look at them -- him -- with disgust, and shudder. Make their apologies and exit stage left. Adios and nice to meet you. Except they'll have that image -- Spike chained to a bed, chest bleeding from shallow wounds that will heal -- stuck in their head.

* * *

 2. Jack White, "Love Interrupted"

 

* * *

 

It isn't love, but it's not hate either. Xander knows that there's always been a fine line between both, but this.

This is something messier, heavier, than either of those. And he just wants it to be over. Wants to wake up one day and not need this.

Not need Spike, or the bed, or the chains. Not need the pull of blood, red, dripping from wounds that will scab over and heal in a few hours time, maybe less if he doesn't make the cuts too deep.

 

* * *

 3. OMI, "Cheerleader"

* * *

He keeps one eye out for danger, and another on the girls with the bouncing breasts and the overabundance of ass cheek hanging out of shorts that are much too short, making them little more than eye candy on long, fleshy legs the color of bronzed taffy. He's at the beach with his friends, trying to keep up appearances, and his mind off of the bleached blonde chained up, bleeding, waiting for him to return and fuck him.

He wonders if life wouldn't be simpler if he was the kind of guy who went for these kind of girls. If things would be easier if he could be satisfied with hanging off the arm of some empty-headed blonde, or brunette. Someone cheerful and always upbeat. Someone his polar opposite, the only 'dark' in their tastes being the tanning lotion that he'd smooth over ample, well-toned flesh.

 

* * *

4\. Walk the Moon, "Come Under the Covers"

* * *

Shivering, he tiptoes across the creaky floor, flinches, holds his breath, and pauses mid-step when Spike shifts on the bed, rolling over onto his back. He's beautiful, the cold light of the moon bathing his body in an ethereal light. Xander catches his lip between his teeth, debating his next move.

This isn't something they do, because they aren't the 'make love and cuddle' kind of couple, but he's cold and lonely, and he just wants to climb underneath the covers and sleep,and feel safe for a little while, and wake up with someone lying next to him.

 

* * *

 5. My Darkest Days, "Casual Sex"

* * *

 

 Nothing they do is casual. The cutting. The blood. The way that the chains rattle when they fuck, moans mixing with screamed obscenities. Even their 'pet' names are hardcore. _Fuckhead. Asshole. Pansy-assed motherfucker._

Cigarette burns mar vulnerable flesh, and Xander knows that they'll be gone the next day, but the stench of burning flesh will remain with him for days to come. He evokes a hissed breath from the vampire when his lips and tongue burn a deeper hole than that of the cigarette burns that Spike begged him to pepper the insides of his thighs with, and he wonders if he's crazy, or going there, because none of what they do with, and to, each other is sane.  

 

********  



	2. Dead on the Inside

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He's going down, down, down. One would think that when he reaches the bottom, up would be the only way to go, but one would be wrong.

6\. Ludo, "Whipped Cream"

They can have fun, too. Sometimes. Blood mixed with whipped cream is much sweeter than it sounds.

Xander licks his lips, goes down on his lover, mixes their blood together and revels in the false sense of power that this gives him, because even though it's Spike who's chained to the bed, and Xander's on top, he's not the one in charge. Never has been, and he hates the things that Spike makes him do to him. Things Xander has to do, because if he doesn't, Spike will leave him, and he doesn't want to be alone.

He'd rather have whipped cream with cherries on top. Maybe hot fudge and sprinkles, definitely nuts.

 

* * *

7\. Def Leppard, "Love Bites"

Def Leppard has it right, he thinks, love bleeds.

It's messy, and hurts, and is on the opposite side of the fence as fairness is.

It's its own form of warfare, and every time Xander tries to walk away, he can't.

Instead, he finds himself on his knees, mouth full and not in a way which satisfies him until Spike comes, cold seed the taste of iron spilling down his throat and into his belly.

Strong, cold fingers twine in his hair, pulling and digging into his scalp, as they hold him in place. And he can't breathe, can't think, can't stop thinking.

Love bites, and fuck it all, so does he, but that's what Spike tells him that he wants. Xander can't help but think that, if Spike is love's bitch, then that makes Xander Spike's bitch.

 

* * *

8\. Florence + The Machine, "Kiss with a Fist"

They fight. Knock-down-drag-out fights. No love taps for them, or lover's quarrels that end with compromise.

Sometimes Xander wakes up minutes, hours later, no memory of what laid him out, or why he's got a black eye, how he ended up splayed facedown on the cheap linoleum floor of their mobile home, blood trickling from his mouth or nose.

It's a wonder the neighbors don't call the cops, though they're usually engaged in fights of their own. Their shouting rivaling that of Xander's parents, of Spike and him when one of them is drunk.

He never thought he'd be living this life. Not after growing up the way he did with his father beating him and his mother. But maybe there's some truth to the saying that you live what you learn.

They kiss and make up afterwards, though. Every time, and the taste of blood, the stinging pain, slams home the why of what it is that they do. It's the only time Xander feels truly alive, and like maybe there's something more to their relationship than pain and humiliation.

 

* * *

9\. Cutting Crew, "Died in Your Arms Tonight"

Sometimes he worries that one, or both, of them is going to die, and not in the making love kind of way.

The love that they make isn't for the faint of heart, and he wonders if it's even love, if he even has a heart. He knows Spike doesn't, and that's okay, because the vampire is capable of love. No way would he have stuck with Dru as long as he had if he hadn't loved her. The thing is, Xander doesn't know if Spike loves him.

The hand holding the knife is shaky, and Xander closes his eyes, holds his breath until his hand stops shaking, and then carefully draws a line down the center of Spike's chest, watches blood bead and well up, and dips his head low, drags his tongue along the line of blood, lapping at it and shivering at the way his lover moans and curses him.

Maybe love is overrated, and death, when it comes, will not be from this act of carving and fucking, but from something else. Spike's fangs ripping out his throat, or some lucky fledgling fresh from the grave.

 

* * *

10\. Sam Smith, "Stay with Me"

He hates feeling vulnerable, but can't help being engulfed by the panicky fear when Spike slides out of bed, all stiff movements, grimacing from pain, but saying nothing.

Spike's eyes are cold and hard, and he reaches for his pack of cigarettes at the side of the bed, tilts his head to the side  as though thanking him for services rendered, and then walks out of their room, slams the front door behind him, making their home shake.

Xander wants to scream. Not their usual obscenities, but, "Stay!" Instead, he says nothing, curls up on the bed, trying to find warmth, and failing. He prays that Spike will come back, and that everything will be different, but the same, because Xander can't live without Spike. Not when he's dead on the inside.

 


	3. Loss and Change

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Spike leaves, Xander loses himself, and then he's found.

11\. Dead or Alive, "You Spin Me Round"

His head's spinning, dizzy from blood loss, and Xander thinks that maybe he's losing his mind. Gone from crazy to loony.

There's a straight jacket with his name on it and he needs it to feel secure, because he feels lost without his lover, doesn't do well on the receiving end of the cuts and the cuffs, and maybe this is how he'll die, locked up in the basement of an underground BDSM club, because he doesn't know how to give the orders, only how to take them. Can't think of the established safe word to save his life.

"You're so fucking beautiful, baby," the man's voice isn't right, it's not Spike's, and Xander closes his eyes, pretends that he's looking down into his lover's face, licking at bloody wounds, the taste heady and intoxicating.

He screams and the chains rattle.

 

* * *

12\. Frankie Goes to Hollywood, "Relax"

"Relax," the voice says, and Xander thinks that there's a pink elephant dancing somewhere off to his left, but he can't be sure.

His shoulders feel like they're going to come out of their sockets. They burn and so do his eyes, hot with tears and blood and something else. And he can't think straight for the dancing elephants and their tutus and he thinks that maybe this is a childhood memory.

He misses Spike. Misses the taste of the vampire's blood, and come, and misses the thought of what things would be like if they were more like Buffy and Angel, minus the psycho maniac routine.

He's never done drugs before. Has never needed them with Spike, but the man he's with had insisted on them. Had slipped them into Xander's drink, cuffed him to the radiator, and slammed his head into the wall until Xander saw stars.

And now he's got Xander hooked up to this metal rod that's hanging from the ceiling in his basement, and the man's not alone. There are two, maybe three other men with him. Xander loses count, because the elephants are getting in the way.

He can't do this. Can't relax and let these men fuck him. So he blinks his eyes and smiles, watches the pink elephants in their tutus, thinks that maybe, if he's good enough, if he survives this, he might join the ballet.

 

* * *

13\. Kimie, "Dance with Me"

Xander's broken when Spike returns, weeks bleeding into months, later. He can't even lift a finger. His head weighs a ton, and his body's covered with cuts and bruises. His heart doesn't even bother to thunder the way it used to when he hears Spike's sharp intake of breath.

He feels his lover's hand on his back, brushing through his dark, matted locks of hair, lifting them off his heated forehead.

He can't see out of his right eye. Has never been touched this tenderly by anyone before, save for his best friend, and his childhood is not something he wants to think about right now. Not after the elephants, and the men, and the fucking. The beating that he'd received during and afterward.

It's raining, and Xander just wants to sleep. He doesn't want to die.

"You're not going to die, love," Spike says, and then he lies down beside him and holds him, presses a kiss to his temple, and Xander wonders if this is a dream. If he'll wake to find himself chained up in that man's basement, an ugly cock dangling in front of his bruised face.

He chooses denial for the moment, scrunches down within his nest of blankets, feels those arms tighten around him, listens to the rain, and sleeps.

 

* * *

14\. Ella Fitzgerald & Louis Armstrong, "Dream a Little Dream of Me"

He's dreaming. Floating. Can hear someone humming a toneless tune, and burrows deeper within the warmth and strength of the arms holding him.

It's a nice dream, and he doesn't want to wake up. Doesn't want to wake up missing him, feeling empty and alone, and two heartbeats away from dead.

 

* * *

15\. Ed Sheeran, "Give Me Love"

"Things have to change." There's regret in the words, and Spike won't meet his eyes, looks instead at a loose thread in his jeans that he's worrying with tobacco stained fingers.

Xander opens his mouth to apologize, because he must've done something wrong. Spike wouldn't have left otherwise, but there's a cold finger, the feel of lips on his, feather soft and he wants something more than this. More than what they had before Spike left, before he was chained up in a musty smelling basement and fucked by men who didn't even know his name.

He wants, but won't ask.

"I'm sorry," Spike says, eyes staring at his listless fingers, a cigarette dangling from them. He takes a drag, glances at Xander, and his lips quirk up in a self-deprecating grin as he looks away.

"Fuck, this is harder than I thought. Truth is...I love you, Xan, and, fuck, I'm sorry. I, we..."

Xander's breath catches in his throat, and, blinded by tears, by something that he can't even voice, he flings himself at Spike, wraps his arms around him, and, for the first time since this all started, he initiates a kiss, hoping that Spike won't push him away.

 


	4. To Fix What's Broken is Hard When it Just Keeps Breaking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spike's back, but is it too late to fix Xander, especially when his past returns to haunt him?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: This section of drabbles features rape.
> 
> Also, this is AU, and a little odd...it doesn't fit in canon, and is rather, in a way, implausible. 
> 
> Feedback is much appreciated and welcome. I know that this is 'different' perhaps, but it'd be nice to know if anyone likes it. (Thanks)

16\. Lovage, "Stroker Ace"

Things are different between them, and, at first Xander's not sure how he feels about it.

The lack of pain, and bloodletting is disconcerting, but then there's this.

Petting.

Stroking.

And Xander feels his lover purr, closes his eyes, and settles himself on top of Spike, hip to hip, hands moving rhythmically, thumbs and lips and he's never been this hard, never come this undone before, and all they've done is rub together like two cats in heat.

 

* * *

17\. Chris de Burgh, "Lady in Red"

Xander doesn't want to get out of bed, but Spike's tickling the arches of his feet, and smiling at him in a way that promises something good awaits him. Something outside of the nice, toasty nest that he's managed to make of the blankets and pillows piled up around him.

"I love you," Xander whispers, throat still raw from screaming in the basement after Spike had left him, and he never talks to Spike about that time. Wants to dismiss it from his mind, though it lurks in the dark corners, and he's not sure he can shake it completely.

Xander draws the blankets back over his head, and rolls over to sleep for a few more minutes. They've never had any of this before, lazy Sunday mornings lying in bed, and Xander reminds himself that he should thank his friend for this. The girl on the verge of womanhood who Spike calls Red. Once he's caught a few more minutes, or hours, of sleep, that is.

 

* * *

18\. Eric Clapton, "Wonderful Tonight"

"Don't," his lover says when Xander tries to sit up. "Just lie back. Let me take care of you."

Xander wonders if Spike will lap at the blood that's covering his chest, like Xander used to lick the wounds he drew on the vampire's chest. Though the cuts and scrapes Xander's sporting have nothing to do with love or hate, or anything. He was in the wrong place, at the wrong time. Got the shit beat out of him by some supernatural monster of the week, and yet Spike makes him feel like he's special, and not some weak, less than nothing human who got his ass handed to him and then some.

Spike makes him feel loved, and Xander isn't sure what to make of any of this, because all of this, especially the love and the tenderness, is new.

"Tell me that you fought back," Spike says, murder in his voice. "That Buffy killed the bastard."

And, throat thick, Xander nods, and sighs when Spike's hand ghosts over his chest, taking away the pain, somehow making him feel wonderful, and valued.

 

* * *

19\. Madonna, "Justify My Love"

Xander tries to kick the door shut when he sees who's on the other side of it after answering the knock. He ends up backpedaling and falling flat on his ass when the man shoves him backward. It's the man from the club that Xander had visited a couple of times to try to forget Spike. Xander had never learned his name, has no idea how the man managed to find out where he lives.

Spike's out, needs to kill something, expend some energy. Xander's in, studying for a biology test, because, while he hasn't lived at home for the past eight months since he and Spike have started dating, he does still attend high school. Something that, even when Spike had been all domineering master to his obedient manservant, he'd insisted upon.

The man's almost twice Xander's size, and even though he fights against the supernatural, Xander is no match for him. The man slams the door shut, locks it, and hauls Xander up by the front of his shirt. He shakes him until Xander's teeth rattle.

The man's eyes are filled with lust and rage, and Xander closes his eyes, only to open them when he's slapped, hard, across the face. He tastes blood, and flashes back to his first time with Spike, shortly after Angel had left on his short jaunt to Hell. There'd been pain and blood and mindless fucking. Now that he's had a taste of something different, Xander doesn't want to return to it. Doesn't want the reminder of it now.

"You owe me, you little freak." The man's spittle lands on Xander's cheek. He throws Xander to the floor. Xander's pencil goes flying from his hand and underneath the couch where it joins a stray sock, one he'd thought that the sock fairy had stolen months ago. He's already tossed its mate. Will have to toss this one, too. Once he can retrieve it, that is.

The man straddles Xander's lower back, pulls at the hem of his shirt, and the band of his jeans, and Xander prays that the man will be done with all of this before Spike returns, because this isn't something that he wants Spike to witness.

Xander can't breathe, his chest hurts, and there are way too many dust bunnies underneath the couch. He'll have to vacuum. He squeezes his eyes shut tight against the pain when the man shoves a couple fingers in his ass.

Knowing that he's about to be raped doesn't keep him from panicking, and he knows that, when it’s over, it won't justify anything that Xander's done after Spike left, the fact that he cheated on his lover. Won't make any of it go away.

 

* * *

20\. Missy Elliot, "Work It"

"Was it worth it?" the man asks, voice a low growl.

Xander doesn't know what he's talking about. He shakes his head, opens his mouth to ask what the fuck the man's talking about, but no sound comes out, not even when the man replaces his fingers with his cock, slamming into Xander hard enough that Xander blacks out for a little.

Xander's vision wavers, and he wonders, idly, when he'd opened his eyes, because he distinctly remembers closing them. He wonders if he should buy a new package of white socks to replace all of those whose counterparts have hidden themselves beneath the couch, because now that his eyes are open, he can see a few more partnerless socks trapped within clouds of dust. Can see that some of the pages of his schoolbook are ripped, and wonders if he can return it to the library without Giles noticing the damage to it.

Sex has never been this painful before. Not that he can remember. Even when he and Spike had been practicing the bloodletting, pseudo BDSM kind of sex that had, only recently, been swapped for something far more tender, Xander had never felt like he was being torn apart. Like he was being used and brutalized.

Xander doesn't hear the door fly open, bang into the wall hard enough to make the entire trailer shake. Doesn't hear Spike's howl of rage, or his rapist's scream of terror as he's torn away from Xander.

Doesn't hear the man begging for his life, or Spike's quiet, "Shit, Xan, it's going to be okay." when it's all over and the man's undead, buried out in a wooded area not far from where they live.

His eyes are locked on a scrap of paper that is wedged between the wall and the bottom of the couch. A homework assignment that he'd sworn he'd done, but hadn't been able to produce for his English teacher several weeks ago. He wants to laugh, but ends up crying instead, and can't understand why Spike's holding him, and rocking him, whispering promises of protection, and "Never again," against his ear, or why he feels so damn cold.

 


	5. Moving on Is Never Easy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Healing can occur, and things can get better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This, as usual, is imperfect.

21\. Eazy E, "Gimme That Nut"

He wants to go back to the way things were before the thing that Xander refuses to think about happened.

Not back to the blood and chains, or the gentle lovemaking. But to something in between.

Every time Spike touches him, though, all Xander can think about is the basement, his door being kicked in, thick fingers stretching him, and pink elephants in tutus, and, more often than not, he ends up hyperventilating, or crying, and shaking in Spike's arms, not understanding what the fuck is wrong with him, and why he can't just go back to nightly fucking and groping sessions without getting panicky, or feeling like he needs to shower until there's no hot water left in the trailer park.

 

* * *

22\. Michael Jackson, "Dirty Diana"

He feels dirty, and sick, and can't eat. Spike forces him once, and he throws up, ends up shivering in the bottom of the shower, door locked, Spike banging on the bathroom door, begging Xander to let him in. Asking for permission to fix what's wrong.

Xander would let Spike fix him all up, if he knew what it was that was wrong with him. If he understood why he can't sleep, why he avoids the couch, and refuses to wear white socks.

 

* * *

23\. Methods of Mayhem, "Get Naked"

After months of going to bed dressed in sweats, a long-sleeved shirt, and a tee-shirt, avoiding looking at his reflection in the mirror, Xander forces himself to look. Examines his face as though he's looking at a stranger. His eyes are hollow, his skin pinched and pale, and he's lost weight. No wonder Willow and Buffy are always casting him odd looks, and Giles flinches whenever Xander pulls away from his touch, and Angel drags Spike into a corner of the library to talk.

Xander looks like a vampire, minus the supernatural glow and strength, the blood lust. He's empty. A shell of a man.

He turns away, strips, and slips naked beneath the covers. He presses a hand to his hip. The bone is sharp. Xander blinks up at the ceiling, watches light from the highway chase away the shadows.

Curling toward Spike, afraid to ask, because he's pushed the vampire away so many times over the past few months and Spike might not be willing to do this now, might rebuff him. And him in the buff. He can't take the rejection. Might disappear completely if that happens. Float away on the wind, or become a permanent member of the tutu-sporting elephants on parade.

"Xan?" Spike's voice is soft, his hand hovering over Xander's shoulder as though afraid to touch, and Xander isn't sure that he can do this, but he needs to, if not for himself, then for Spike.

"Hold me?" he asks, and, though he flinches when Spike's hand descends on his shoulder, he doesn't pull away when Spike pulls him back against his chest, wraps his arms around him, rests his chin in the crook of Xander's neck. And they slot together like they used to, back before the pink elephants and partnerless socks, back before Xander's pencil went flying beneath the couch.

Xander's calf presses in between Spike's, and, naked, vulnerable for the first time in months, Xander falls asleep, feels safe, and like maybe he can eat breakfast in the morning, and open the package of white socks that Spike had bought him the other day.

 

* * *

24\. TLC, "Creep"

Xander's not prepared to see his rapist turned vampire. Doesn't know where Spike kept him all this time, or why he's let the fledge live this long.

He's shaking, and wants to disappear into thin air, or become one with Spike, or maybe just beat the living crap out of Spike for doing this.

"Shh, Xander, he's not going to hurt you," Spike says, one hand pets Xander's hair while the other shoves a stake in his hands. Xander stares dumbly at the stake, mouth opening and closing as he tries to process what's happening.

A closer examination of the vampire reveals that the monster is covered in a series of cuts and burns, that he's definitely seen better days,and Xander vaguely remembers reading something about the Scourge of Europe, how Angelus and Spike used to turn and then torture their victims before finally killing them.

"What did you do?" Xander asks, voice shaky.

Spike digs his toe into the dirt, shoves his hands in his back pockets. His eyes are dark and sparkling. There's a hard look on his face, and his jaw is locked.

"Peaches helped," he says. "After I told him what the bastard did to you."

Xander swallows, tries to tame the pounding of his heart at the thought that Angel knows what happened. Had known for weeks now, but hadn't said anything to Xander, or made him feel like a victim, like he was any less of a man because of what had happened.

"He's all yours now, Xander," Spike says. "Figured that it was time to dust 'im. Give you back some peace of mind."

“After you and Angel tortured him, you mean?” Xander asks, voice more of a whisper than he intended it to be.

Xander isn't sure what he wants to do more, punch Spike, or take his fury out on the man who'd taken advantage of him when he'd been lost and alone. He understands it now. Knows that the night Spike had found them in the living room hadn't been the first time the man had raped him. The drugs had clouded his mind, made him malleable, and unable to say yes or no. The man had used him. Had let his friends use him, and then returned for more.

"I'm sorry, Xan," Spike says, not meeting his eyes, stubbing a cigarette out on his boot. "Red might've given me my soul, but she didn't get rid of the demon, and, fuck, I think anyone with a soul woul--"

Instead of punching him, Xander kisses him, and then, taking a deep breath, he faces the man -- monster -- who's been the subject of his nightmares for what feels like forever. He's a near mindless vampire now. Eyes dull, though fearful as he looks from Spike, his master, to the stake in Xander's hands.

Xander wonders just how much of the man who'd raped him is left in the  vampire standing before him, twitchy, yet clearly waiting for Spike to tell him what to do.

"He's a minion. Still understands some. Can feel the pain of torture. Won't move unless I tell 'im to," Spike answers Xander’s unspoken questions, and lights another cigarette, steps back as Xander weighs the stake in his hands.

Stepping forward, Xander's heart pounds in his chest, and his knees feel weak, his palms sweaty. This isn't anything like fighting a newborn vampire. Will be like taking advantage of someone weaker and more vulnerable than him. Like what the man had done to Xander when he'd still had a beating heart, and needed to breathe.

Xander's face twists in pain and anger, and screaming, he surges forward. Dropping the stake, he uses his fists, and beats the vampire until his fists are bloody, and Spike's pulling him back; the mindless vampire's on his knees, groveling, begging for mercy.

Eyes hard, Xander shakes off Spike's hand, and he picks up the abandoned stake, plunges it into the monster's heart, and watches it disappear in a cloud of man-shaped dust.

He doesn't understand why he's crying, but buries his face against Spike's chest, lets himself be carried home, and cries until he has no more tears left. They don’t make love that night, but it’s not because Xander isn’t willing.

 

* * *

25\. Divinyls, "I Touch Myself"

Laughter returns to Xander slowly. Spike dancing around the living room wearing Xander's beloved pair of ducky boxers, touching himself lewdly while Xander attempts to conjugate French verbs in sentences that he doubts he'll ever say in any language, let alone French.

Part of him highly doubts that the French would appreciate him asking if the object that he's holding in his hand is a pen, and another part of him wonders what the French word for penis is, and if he can learn how to ask Spike if the object that he's holding in his hands, thumbing the head, as he licks his lips, is a penis, or just a really hard piece of wood.

 

* * *

26\. R. Kelly, "Ignition"

When they make love for the first time...after...everything...it's nothing like anything they've ever done together.

It's tender and easy, and almost like they aren't even having sex at all.

There's laughter, and staring and touching, and just holding each other.

Xander doesn't feel like he's being violated, or taken advantage of, or like he has to keep up appearances, or follow some sort of strict code of conduct (insert part A into slot B, twist, turn) as much as he feels like he's being worshiped.

His body's Spike's temple, and it's all so simple, like they're just two friends hanging out kissing and one thing leads to another which leads to another, and there's no pressure, and for the first time in forever, Xander feels loved.

 

* * *

27\. Sublime, "Caress Me Down"

Fucking can be fun. Xander hadn't known that when he'd first started getting down and dirty with Spike. Hadn't known it when he and Uncle so and so (Xander can't even picture the man's face anymore, he hadn't been a real uncle anyway, just some old neighborhood cook) had dabbled in naughty touching, and other things Xander refuses to think about.

And though he never talks about it, Xander thinks that maybe, until after Spike's breakdown, and Xander's rape, Spike hadn't known that sex could be fun either.

He wonders about that. Late at night when he can't sleep, and memories are dark and swirling, and he needs to get out of his own head and memories. Wonders what the vampires had done together. Had they engaged in wicked orgies?

Were there sexual encounters always about blood and cutting and torturous pain?

Had Spike ever known, before Xander, and this, and now, that there could be laughter, and lazy Sunday afternoons spent eating fruit from each other's mouths, drinking jello shots out of belly buttons?


	6. Love, Kittens and Homework

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The road to healing can be a lot of fun.

28\. Herman's Hermits, "Mrs. Brown You've Got a Lovely Daughter"

Spike's taste in music is versatile. Xander's tastes pretty much veer toward Patsy Cline ballads, and the occasional pop song.

It's days like this, lying in bed together, sheets a tangled mess at the foot of the bed, listening to Herman's Hermits instead of the Rolling Stones, cigarette dangling from his lips, soft, nostalgic smile curling his lips, that Xander wonders at the man Spike would've been had he grown up in a different time and place. Had he never been turned. What things would've been like had he and Xander never met.

 

* * *

29\. Daft Punk, "Lose Yourself to Dance"

Sometimes he likes to work up a sweat dancing, and let Spike lick off the salty aftermath. The cool tongue bath gives Xander goosebumps, makes something tight and balled up inside of him go all loose and gooey as knots Xander hadn't even realized were knotted are unknotted, and Spike reminds him what it feels like to be treasured. Loved.

* * *

30\. Angus & Julia Stone, "Devil's Tears"

It's a stormy night. Thunder and lightning. Wind, like monsters, howls outside of their bedroom window.

But they're safe and dry, huddled up together, covers drawn up over their heads, lying face-to-face, hip-to-hip, legs locked together, sharing shy smiles, and the simple joy of touch.

Xander traces a silvery white scar on Spike's rib-cage, wonders what kind of beast could have given him that lasting mark -- the devil, or maybe Angelus in a fit of rage. Vampires don't scar easily. Spike has too many scars to count, but that doesn't stop Xander from trying.

* * *

31\. Common Kings, "No Other Love"

Xander hasn't known love like this.

Hasn't known love, period.

His parents sure as hell hadn't loved him.

And friendship, though it's a kind of love isn't the kind of love that he needs. Has come to crave and want.

Spike makes him feel like a prince, sometimes like a king. Like the most important person in the whole damn world, and Xander doesn't mind being beholden to him. Holding Spike's head in his lap while the master vampire bemoans life and fate and destiny, the horrors and drawbacks being love's bitch.

There is no other love like this, and Xander's happy that he is the one who can lay claim to it.

 

* * *

32\. Run DMC, "It's Tricky"

They're playing poker.

With kittens.

It's kind of creepy, and exciting, and Xander has his eye on this timid little black one, eyes the color of sapphires. It keeps looking at him, opening its little mouth and making this pathetic little mewling sound that makes Xander's heart feel a little like its being torn in two.

He casts a look in Spike's direction, puts just the right amount of 'pout' in his lower lip, making it tremble as he whispers, drawing out his lover's name, "Spike, I want that one. Please?"

He doesn't need to bat his eyelashes, just lays a hand lightly on Spike's arm. Knows that it'll be a little tricky for Spike to win that particular kitten, but with Xander by his side, cheating isn't really all that hard, especially with the demons drooling over Xander as though he's a chocolate-drenched Twinkie and they're junk food junkies.

 

* * *

33\. Peggy Lee, "Fever"

He's burning up. Temp of a hundred one. Head aching. Belly taut with an ache that has nothing, and everything, to do with the fever that's raging through him.

A fever that he thinks has nothing much to do with the sickness that kept him home from school.

Unless Spike can be considered a sickness, Xander thinks, smirks, winces when his headache kicks up a notch.

The black kitten -- Kitness to Xander, Little Demon Bint to Spike -- bats at one of Spike's sock clad feet as he walks across their bedroom floor, bottle of some kind of fever reducer in one hand and a glass of water in the other.

The kitten sinks her claws into the vampire's big toe. Both hiss at each other, the bottle of pills goes flying out of Spike's hand and water splashes over the edge of the glass.

Xander just wants Spike to stop playing with the kitten, and hop his way into bed so that the vampire can cool him down, because he's burning up, and Spike's like a tall glass of cold water to his desert heat.

 

* * *

34\. Nina Simone, "Feeling Good"

He's got the good kind of blues. The sing it from the rooftops 'cause life's got a Disney Princess kind of vibe to it.

Birds singing.

Sun shining in a sky so blue that it's nearly blinding.

Chipmunks chattering companionably.

It's like the whole world is singing, matching the tune that hasn't stopped playing itself over and over again in his heart since Spike's said those three little words to him, and he's said them back.

* * *

35\. The Cyrcle, "Red Rubber Ball"

It's mid-morning, and they're lounging in bed. Something that's fast become a habit of theirs on weekends.

The radio's playing a catchy song that Xander's not paying any attention to, and he ponders the mysteries of love and life. What it is that keeps him and Spike together, even after the crap that both of them have been through. He could try dating others. So could Spike.

But, there are no other fish in the sea for Xander. Spike is it. Even if he's more of a shark, and Xander's a clownfish. It had worked out for Marlin and Dory in Finding Nemo. He doesn't know why it can't work out for him and Spike.

"Fish are friends, not food," Xander quips, and Spike raises an eyebrow, glares daggers at Kitness who has her claws extended as she cleans them, purring contentedly from where she's perched atop Xander's lap.

* * *

36\. LL Cool J, "Doin' It"

They're both horny. Fucking each other with their eyes. Hands clenching, fingers itching to touch.

Spike takes one breath, and in the next he's standing directly in front of Xander, cool hands on hips that have filled out some since Xander's started eating again.

Xander's been hard off and on all day long. Math class had been damn difficult to sit through, and he'd almost not made it through lunch, or PE without an extra long shower that would've made him late for history.

Now that he's home, the afternoon sun hanging lazily in the sky as it considers going down, light kept out by dark curtains, they can get down to the business of doing it, and then Xander can hit the books.

* * *

37\. Toto, "Africa"

Xander looks at the map of Africa that he's got spread out on the living room floor. He's got his legs splayed wide, giving him room to work, a sugary soda and bowl of cereal within reach, pencil trapped between his teeth, and white poster board, crayons, markers, everything that he could possibly need for his latest class project. Spike's sitting on the couch behind him, knees on either side of Xander's head, fingers kneading at tight muscles in Xander's shoulders and upper back.

As he studies up on Africa, Xander thinks that, maybe, someday, after high school, and all of the fighting of bad things, he wouldn't mind going to Africa.

Going on a safari.

Seeing a lion in the wild. Zebras and elephants. Tall grasses, and trees that have been around since the beginning of time.

"What you thinking, Xan?" Spike asks, elbow working on a particularly difficult knot.

Wincing, Xander closes his eyes, leans back into the touch, lets his head rest on Spike's thigh, and thoughts of Africa drift by the wayside. 


	7. Sexual Healing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spike is Xander's vice, and Xander is Spike's.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Much thanks to ThePhoenixandTheDragon (without your comments, I would have deleted this story, mahalo).

38\. Prince, "Breakfast Can Wait"

He's hungry, but it isn't for the plate of pancakes smothered in butter and syrup, generous side of bacon and cheesy scrambled eggs that Spike, clothed only in an apron, is holding out like an offering to appease an angry god.

And, yeah, they'd fought the night before, but Xander hadn't expected this. He'd kind of expected more fighting. Maybe a split lip, or a black eye. Apologies and kisses that would increase, before they eased, the pain.

His stomach growls, but his mind is side-tracked, because Spike is standing there, one hand on his hip. He's holding the plate piled high with more food than Xander can eat in the other hand. And there's a guilty, apologetic, fearful look on his face that makes Xander's heart lurch.

Xander reaches for the plate, deposits it on the side table, and lunges at Spike, tackles him, sends him sprawling at the foot of the bed where he pins him down, wrists held loosely in his hands.

Spike bucks his hips upward, trying, and failing, to usurp Xander's hold on him. It's playful, and Xander plants himself firmly on the vampire's lap, holding him in place. It's a far cry from what they used to do. Much more fun.

"Thought you were hungry," Spike says, eyes shining with laughter. Xander's just glad that the fearful look is gone, that they can get right to the making up without having to go through the bruises to get there.

"Breakfast can wait," Xander says, leaning down to conquer Spike's mouth with a kiss that he hopes will communicate everything that he cannot say.

 

* * *

39\. Incubus, "Warning"

Was his life passing him by? Giles had suggested it. Angel, too.

Xander can't see anything beyond this, though. Him and Spike. Homework. Laundry. Sex.

He knows that there's more to life than what meets the eye. That, one day he'll have to make a decision to do something more with his life than merely living it, surviving, but the thing is, that he thought that's exactly what he'd been doing with Spike, because, ironic or not, it was Spike who'd taught, and then given him the courage, to live.

 

* * *

40\. Def Leppard, "Pour Some Sugar on Me"

Spike is sugar. Xander's an addict, knee-deep in the sticky sweetness that is his lover. It's heady and Spike can be a real tease when he wants to.

Spike is hot, in both a literal and non-literal way.

Sticky.

Sweet.

Xander wants to eat him up.

 

* * *

41\. George Michael, "I Want Your Sex"

He'd never have known this about Spike if he hadn't discovered it by accident. Not in a million years.

Lost socks. No clean pair. A disgusted look on his face, Xander had pulled them on and vowed to toss the offending pair of them right after working his shift at the Bronze.

It was kismet that he'd worn them that night. That he'd toed his shoes off the minute he'd stepped into their home. If he hadn't, he'd never have learned that the big bad vampire has a fetish for holey socks. Can't resist Xander's advances when he's wearing a pair of old socks, big toe sticking out of a hole. Even when he's in a sour mood, Xander can draw him out with the socks -- they've got their very own spot in his sock drawer.

Spike's eyes narrow on the toe, and Xander had never known that sucking could feel so good.

There's nothing natural or logical about it, and it shouldn't be sensual, but it is, and Xander's come in his shorts more than once with his big toe in the vampire's mouth, tongue swirling around the pad, teeth teasing at the dry ridges, wordless moans, and the cool-warm wetness that engulfs him. It goes straight to his cock, rendering Xander little more than a babbling mess.

 

* * *

42\. Bloodhound Gang, "The Bad Touch"

Sometimes it's just raw sex between them.

Fucking like animals.

No comfort, or makeup sex.

No cuddling afterwards.

Just sex. Doggie style. Or Xander on Spike's lap, riding his cock, bouncing up and down like he's a pole dancer.

Not something that anyone would see on the Discovery Channel or PBS.

 

* * *

43\. Salt-N-Pepa, "Let's Talk About Sex"

Sex isn't dirty. Least it doesn't have to be. Not when it's good. And not unless you want it to be. Dirty sex can be good, too.

No one ever talked to Xander about 'it' and his virginity hadn't been guarded. No need for a chastity belt. Not for a boy on the cusp of manhood. Loss of virginity was a crown to wear, a bright, shiny badge to display for all to see.

There was a health class, once. Maybe junior high school.

Bananas.

Condoms.

And Xander hadn't been able to figure it out without the damn thing flying into his eye and blinding him.

He likes the sex talks that he has with Spike. How, without saying a word, they can get their meaning across loud and clear.

 

* * *

44\. Ludo, “All the Stars in Texas”

Sometimes Xander thinks that maybe, instead of shacking up with Spike in a trailer park on the south side of town, they should’ve gone on a roadtrip.

Gas station holdups, complete with ski masks and cheesy stick-up lines.

Collecting loose cash tossed at them in fear of a toy gun that looks, but isn’t, real. Bundling it up in a paper sack and stealing a package of Twinkies for him, and a couple of packs of cigarettes for Spike, on their way out.

Not killing anyone. Just living the life.

Making love in the backseat of Spike’s desoto with the sunset as a backdrop, and the blare of police sirens as their soundtrack.

 

* * *

45\. Bloodhound Gang, “Uhn Tiss Uhn Tiss Uhn Tiss”

Everyone’s got a vice.

Spike’s is...blood, cigarettes, whiskey, and Xander -- lying a rumpled mess on their bed, sweaty hair sticking up all over the place, cock hard and leaking with need, dark eyes barely open, lips parted and begging.

Xander’s is Spike.  Bleach blonde, pouty-lipped, potty-mouthed. All hard, smooth muscles, like granite on a statue. ****  
  



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